


Make Way (it's a bright new star)

by Lalaith_Yamainu



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin - All Media Types, Aladdin: The Animated Series, Disney - All Media Types, Disney Animated Fandoms, Disney Princesses
Genre: F/M, Gen, Politics, Rags to Riches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaith_Yamainu/pseuds/Lalaith_Yamainu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasmine is the Princess Royal of Agribah, raised to politics.  Aladdin was not.  This is a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Way (it's a bright new star)

Jasmine stared at the sleeping face of her husband. It was smooth and boyish, dark hair tussled carelessly. His breathing was deep and even, his boundless energy, for once, stilled. She moved softly out of the bed, feet padding on the marble floor, glancing back to see if she had disturbed him.

She hadn’t.

Three years of life in the palace, and he was finally starting to sleep peacefully. Royalty may be notoriously light sleepers (assassins often take advantage of darkened halls and fewer guards), but compared to her husband Jasmine passed each night in blissful oblivion. She shuddered to remember their wedding night, after the passion had dimmed to a pleasant warmth and they relaxed in each other’s arms. He had fallen asleep long before, while she was kept awake with giddy dreams of their future together, when she made the mistake of brushing against him as she rolled over.

He was halfway across the room before he was awake enough to open his eyes.

Oh how many nights she had cried when he awoke in reflex-wrought terror at the little disturbances that come from sharing a sleeping space with another person. She begged him to let her take another room, or even another bed in the same room, but he refused. He cherished their time together, and claimed that her face and voice calmed him faster than an empty, unfamiliar room would.

Her heart ached at the though of the life he had lived (the one he never spoke to her of) that could bring such wariness into his life even now. 

She padded softly into the corridor, nodding to the guards at their bedroom door, and pretending not to notice the one that fell in step behind her. They knew where she was going, where she had gone each night these past few weeks. 

Her father was dying.

He was an old man, and had lived a long life. A good life. But his work was not over yet, her heart cried. He was the only family she had left. Death among children was common even in a royal palace, and though there were many children in the harem that bore a suspicious likeness to her, Jasmine was the only child of the sultan born to one of his wives to remain. His first wife had died in labor, taking her child with her, and Jasmine’s own mother had passed from a fever when she was a babe. Her brothers had both died in the wars, and her elder sister (who looked entirely too much like one of the palace guards for the comfort of the court) had long ago been married off to a distant nobleman.

And Aladdin knew nothing of statecraft.

To be fair, her father hadn’t either, but Jaffar had long kept the kingdom afloat, and she had learned enough watching him to take the reigns when he was expelled from their  
lives. But that had been acting in her father’s name, when he had ruled long enough to have the confidence of the court and nobles, and when most of his edicts went unquestioned. To try and do the same in the name of her young, untried, open faced, common born husband was...

The sultan’s hand was sweaty in her own, and his labored breathing echoed around the chamber. Doctors and servants flitted about, trying to look useful, but in truth simply waiting for the inevitable.

Her sister’s husband might make a bid for the throne, though he would have to journey far from his homeland. She had a second cousin, as well, whom she had already received intelligence on. He was a cruel one, and she shuddered to think of Agrabah in his hands. Two of the nobles had been waging a silent war against each other for support in the court, and even a few of the harem-born had begun about their parentage.

Aladdin was a good man, an honest man (for all that he was a thief), and he had the support of the rabble to be sure. His many adventures were common bedtime stories now, and his strange allies gave many pause. She was proud to call him her husband, proud to share his name and to bear his children. He was quick and clever and golden hearted, and all who knew him loved him.

But for all that, he could barely read when he first moved to the palace. He couldn’t name all of the surrounding kingdoms, much less their political leaders. He had no concept of court etiquette (though he was always kind) and was known to loudly protest when some tradition or other went against his personal moral compass. 

He tried, oh how he tried. A diligent student to begin with, he had slaved day and night over scrolls and tutors and maps since her father had fallen ill. That she was able to leave their bed without disturbing him bore testament to his exhaustion. But how could one learn instinct brought on by upbringing? She herself had made many forays into the city in the past years, both accompanied and unacompanied, and knew that she would always stick out like a sore thumb.

Razoul caught her eye from across the room and a look passed between them. For all his personal contempt for the boy-turned-prince, she knew he would support her, and bring a sizable portion of the army and palace guard with him.

She hoped it would be enough.

She prayed it would be enough.

She still prepared for war.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where I want to go with this. Maybe I'll add more.


End file.
